


A Winter Festival Surprise

by cardinalgirl75



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because Brienne worries a lot, But a little bit of angst too, F/M, Fluff, What would Westeros celebrate instead of Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalgirl75/pseuds/cardinalgirl75
Summary: As the holiday approaches, Brienne's got a lot more on her mind than what she's going to get someone for the Faceless Men gift exchange.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 25
Kudos: 185
Collections: JB Online 2019 Advent Calendar Collection, Sevenmas & Other Winter Holidays





	A Winter Festival Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So...this is my very first J/B story, written for the 2019 JBO Advent Calendar! I'm scared witless about how it turned out, but I hope everyone who takes the time to read it will enjoy. I decided that instead of Christmas, Westeros would celebrate a "Winter Festival," although why I decided that, I have no idea. *shrug* Oh well. And the "Faceless Men gift exchange" is the Westeros version of Secret Santa.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :)

As Brienne waits at the fifth red light she’s caught on her trip across the city to a drug store where no one knows her, she wishes she could be someone else. Someone younger, prettier, more confident. If she was that person, she would walk into the drug store just down the road from where she works. She would go directly to the family planning aisle, make her selections right away, plunk the boxes on the counter with the confidence of a woman who needed them, pay for her purchases, and walk out without anyone making snide comments.

But she’s _Brienne Tarth_. The person who has been told almost since birth that she’s not the kind of woman any man would look at twice, unless it was a double-take at how ugly she was. The girl who got humiliated her freshman year of high school when the senior boys bet on which one of them would get up enough courage to take her virginity, and she fell for it. The woman who takes to hiding in the shadows so no one will notice her. The notion that a woman like _her_ will ever need anything from the family planning aisle is laughable.

Yet by some miracle, she is now a woman who needs to shop in that aisle, because what she needs today is not something she’s ready to ask anyone else to get for her. Not Renly or Margaery, who don’t approve of her relationship at all. Not Sansa, who approves slightly more than them but is more likely to comment. And definitely not Jaime. Not for this. Not when she doesn’t know how he will react.

And so Brienne finds herself driving clear to the other side of King’s Landing to a hole-in-the-wall drug store where no one knows her. She’ll still end up being humiliated, because she’s _her_ , but at least it won’t be in the same place where she gets her annual flu shot and picks up antibiotics.

In this less genteel part of town, the drug store stands out for having a lovely display of items celebrating the upcoming Winter Festival, although Brienne can’t decide if the tangle of carts in front of the display are there because no one bothers to put carts back correctly or if the owner wanted to keep hooligans from getting close enough to write profanities on the window. She manages to liberate a cart from the tangle, then heads inside.

She doesn’t go directly to the needed aisle, of course. She needs to check out the lay of the land—find out how many customers are in the store, where they’re located, is it a man or woman behind the counter, where _is_ the family planning aisle, anyway?—and to get a few other things she’d told Jaime she would pick up on her way home from work.

Twenty minutes later, Brienne’s cart is half-full of items needed—although she didn’t think Jaime meant for her to pick up five party-sized bags of M&Ms, or eight bags of Cheetos—and she’s finally ready to face down the dreaded aisle. She had walked its length early on, just slow enough to find what she needed but fast enough that she could pretend she was just going through on her way to something else. She makes one last circuit of the store to make sure no one is anywhere near the aisle, takes a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, then turns her cart into the aisle. She makes her way quickly to the spot she’d noted earlier, grabs three boxes without looking, and dumps them into her cart. When she reaches the end of the aisle, she covers the boxes with the Cheetos, then heads for the checkout.

She’s halfway there when she comes across a display table full of Winter Festival items. She notices a heap of plain red stockings and pauses, thinking back to the first Winter Festival she’d known Jaime.

Brienne had started working for his father’s company as their in-house legal counsel a few months earlier. Things had gotten off to a rocky start between her and Jaime because she’d thought he was an arrogant shit even if he was the handsomest man she’d ever met and he’d thought she was a dull stick-in-the-mud even though he’d openly admired her legs (and her eyes, though she didn’t learn about that until later). She’d gotten his name in the Faceless Men gift exchange and bought Jaime a joke stocking with a picture of a knight in armor riding a horse. She’d filled it full of novelty socks, including a pair with jackasses on them. (Being the nice person she was, she’d also included a gift card to what his personal assistant, Pia, swore was his favorite restaurant.) 

Her first clue that Jaime liked her was that he wore a pair of novelty socks to the office every day for the next week, even the pair with jackasses all over them.

Her second clue that Jaime liked her was when he’d asked her out to dinner at his favorite restaurant at the end of that week.

But she knew without a doubt that he’d been in love with her all along the following year, when she’d moved in with him just before Winter Harvest and found her joke stocking hanging above his fireplace next to a more expensive version of the stocking with a female knight in armor.

Brienne thinks of how Jaime has always been the one who goes above and beyond when it comes to the people he loves. If sometimes he embarrasses the hell out of her, like the time he’d started talking dirty to her on the phone before she could get out a ‘hello,’ not knowing that she’d put him on speakerphone because she’d thought he’d called for a work-related reason and his father was in the office with her at the time—well, he at least leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind how he feels about her.

Unlike her friends, who still question her about her feelings for him even though she’s lived with Jaime for almost a year now. She worries sometimes that Jaime questions her feelings for him, but if he does, he’s never said anything.

Well, this might be a way of showing him how much she loves him, by trying to do something cute and cloyingly romantic. With a small smile on her face, she picks up one the stockings and places it on top of the heap in her cart, and then goes to the checkout. The person at the counter is an older man with a kindly face. He reminds her ever so slightly of her father. He doesn’t look the type who would be mean to anyone. Brienne wishes she could trust appearances, but she’s been burned too many times. 

_Please don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything. Please don’t make a mean comment._

Brienne plunks the items on the counter, hurrying through the task and trying to pick up the boxes along with the snacks to keep them hidden, as though they won’t have to be separated and scanned later. With the last of the items on the counter, Brienne grabs her purse and pulls out her wallet.

The man smiles at her instead of starting to scan her items. “It’s a beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

_Oh no. No, no, no. Please just do your job and leave me alone._ She tries to smile, knows she looks ghoulish, and nods. She looks down and notices that he’s missing the tips of the four fingers on his left hand, and her heart gives a little squeeze.

She hastily looks up, because she knows how it feels to have people stare at you. The man gives her an understanding look and reaches for the first item. “It’s not going to last. My fingers are aching, and that always means a change in the weather’s coming.”

“My father says the same thing about his back,” Brienne replies, relaxing ever so slightly. “He hurt it years ago in a boating accident on Shipbreaker Bay, and ever since then he says he doesn’t need a weather report to let him know when rain or snow is coming.”

The man chuckles. “That’s the downside to getting old. The bones tell the tale.” They make small talk about the weather as he continues ringing up her items, although Brienne is still tense at the thought that someone might get to the counter and see what’s underneath the mound of junk before this man, whose name tag reads “DAVOS—MANAGER” on it, can finish.

What feels like five thousand years later, Davos reaches the three boxes. He rings them up and places them in a new bag before he takes three packages of M&Ms from another bag, placing them on top of the boxes. Brienne knows she’s blushing because her face feels like it’s on fire.

But Davos, bless him, only gives her a small wink before finishing with the rest of the items. Brienne pays quickly and starts putting the bags into the cart with Davos’s assistance.

“I hope you get the result you’re hoping for, lass,” he says softly as he places the last bag in the cart. “Either way, your fella’s a lucky man.”

Brienne blinks back tears and thinks, _No, I’m the lucky one. He’s the blind idiot,_ but says, “Thank you. Happy Harvest, Davos.”

“Happy Harvest to you, too.”

Brienne tries not to run out of the store, but she definitely doesn’t tarry.

~*~*~*~*~*

Jaime isn’t home when Brienne arrives, which surprises her because he’d only had a couple of things to finish up when she’d left the office earlier. She checks her phone and sees that she’s missed a text message.

**Emergency with Tyrion and Father. Father found out about Tyrion’s new girlfriend and is threatening to send Tyrion to The Wall. Tyrion’s threatening to shoot Father with a crossbow if he doesn’t butt out of his private life. If I’m lucky, I’ll be home by eleven, so don’t wait up.**

Brienne rolls her eyes. She wishes this was Jaime being melodramatic, but she knows it isn’t. Tywin Lannister hasn’t approved of either of his sons’ romantic choices, and she tries not to let this bother her.

She types up a quick acknowledgement and only feels a bit guilty about adding, _Make sure if Tyrion uses a crossbow that he makes it a flesh wound, I’m not a defense attorney_ , and then sets her phone on the kitchen counter. She feels slightly guiltier about being glad that Jaime’s going to be gone for a while. Even if he gets the situation resolved between Tywin and Tyrion, Jaime will feel obligated to go out for a drink or two (or ten) with Tyrion afterwards. She has plenty of time to get done what she needs to get done.

Brienne takes out the three boxes from one of the bags and heads to the master bathroom. She opens up all the tests—she hadn’t realized that each box contains two tests, so in the end she’s got six sticks in her hand—and carefully reads through the instructions. She tries not to blush about what she’s got to do and fails miserably, then goes about her business. 

_Three minutes. What are three minutes in a lifetime?_ Brienne asks herself as she waits for the results, but she knows the next three minutes are going to feel like a lifetime.

When she’d missed her first period, Brienne hadn’t thought anything of it. She’s never been regular in the first place, so she chalked it up to stress. When she’d missed her second period, Brienne briefly wondered if she might be pregnant, but dismissed it immediately. She had no symptoms. Her breasts didn’t seem any bigger, she wasn’t running for the bathroom every morning to throw up her breakfast, and she certainly hadn’t had any bizarre cravings. (There had been that week where she’d wanted nothing but Dornish game hens, but that was hardly bizarre, so it didn’t count.) When she’d missed her third period, however, Brienne began to worry, because either she was pregnant or there was something seriously wrong with her.

_Ninety seconds…_

Staring at the tests, Brienne feels a knot in the pit of her stomach. She and Jaime haven’t talked about the future much since he asked her to move in with him. There’s a part of Brienne that dreams of standing before a septon with Jaime, their hands entwined as they recite their vows. That dreams of Jaime holding her hand and looking at her lovingly as she labors to bring their child into this world. That dreams of Jaime’s arm around her as they walk the beaches of Tarth and their grandchildren scamper around them.

She would never bring it up with him, though. As much as she loves Jaime, as sure as she is that he loves her, there’s always a part of her that thinks she’s going to wake up and it will all have been a figment of her imagination. She worries that if she pushes the issue of wanting more, he might not love her anymore.

Maybe this is why her friends doubt that she loves him as much as he loves her.

_Thirty seconds…_

Brienne puts her hands on her stomach. Is it her imagination, or is it a bit softer than usual? She works out every day at the gym—she may not have looks, and she may not have curves, but she’s dedicated to being in peak physical condition. She presses inward but feels nothing different. Surely she can’t be pregnant.

_Five…four…three…two…one._

Brienne doesn’t know how long she spends in the bathroom, staring at those tests as though one of them is suddenly going to change and tell her she’s not pregnant. She nearly shrieks when she hears the knock at her door, because she’s not ready to face anyone yet. Maybe she can pretend she’s not home. Yes, whoever is at the door will knock a few times, then realize she’s out, and she can have a little more time to figure out exactly how she’s going to tell Jaime about this.

More knocking, and then her phone rings. She groans. Why hadn’t she thought to bring the phone into the bathroom with her? Or better still, turn it off altogether? Maybe later, she can tell whoever is at her door that she’d left her phone behind by accident when she went to the gym. Yes, that would work. She’s done that from time to time, and not always by accident.

“BRIENNE! I know you’re in there! Open the door, dammit!”

Seven hells. Of course it’s Sansa, who may look ladylike and demure but is as stubborn as a mule. There’s no cure for it—she’ll have to let her in. If she doesn’t, Sansa will stick around until Jaime gets home, and then she’ll have both of them to deal with at the same time. Brienne grabs the tests and empty boxes and shoves them into the trash, then yanks the trash bag out of the can. She ties the top and walks into the kitchen, where she tosses the bag into the larger trash can, then takes _that_ bag out as well. She’s tying it off as Sansa bangs on the door again.

Brienne grabs the bag and heads for the door. “I’m coming, hold on,” she says loudly. She throws open the door. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom when you knocked.” She steps aside to let Sansa in, then walks down the six steps to street level and their garbage can. She stuffs the bag inside and heads back inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She nearly groans as Sansa takes off her coat and hangs it on the coat rack. There are two large brown paper sacks on the breakfast bar, one of which looks suspiciously like it came from the liquor store. Right now, Brienne wants nothing more than a glass or twenty of wine, but…

_No more of that for the next few months. Six months? Seven months? How far along am I, anyway? Does it go back to your last period or your first missed period or what?_

“Brienne? You okay?”

“Huh?” Brienne shakes her head. “I’m fine. Just a little out of it today, that’s all.”

Sansa gives her a sympathetic look. “Yeah, I heard about the complication with the Giantsbane acquisition. Did Tormund Giantsbane really say that he’d agree to Tywin’s terms if you went on a date with him?”

Brienne rolls her eyes. “He did.” And Tywin’s reaction to her refusal still pisses her off. As though she’s going to prostitute herself to get a deal. Maybe she should’ve mentioned that to Jaime, in case he was feeling any sympathy for his father in the Tywin/Tyrion showdown.

“Ugh. Why are men such pigs? Except Theon. He’s amazing.” Sansa reaches into one of the bags on the breakfast bar and confirms Brienne’s suspicion. Sansa sweeps into the kitchen, heading right for the drawer containing the corkscrew. She stops short, however. “Um, is there going to be a shortage of Cheetos and M&Ms that I haven’t heard about?” She points at the shopping bags on the counter, contents spilling out of them from where Brienne had searched for the pregnancy tests, not remembering which bag Davos had hidden them in.

“No, I…just thought I’d get a head start on buying what we would need for our New Year’s party.”

Sansa’s eyes widen in shock. “You’re having a New Year’s party?”

“Um, yeah?”

“And you’re thinking of having a party where you serve the guests Cheetos and M&Ms?”

“Jaime loves those things. Why wouldn’t I have them at a party he’s hosting? Would you serve stuff Theon hated if you were hosting a party?”

Sansa considers this, then shrugs. “I should be offended that you planned to host a party without asking me to help, but I’ll forgive you because obviously, I’ll be helping you from here on out.”

Brienne opens her mouth to protest, remembers that she’s not really throwing a party—although how in the seven hells she’s going to get out of it now, she has no idea—and keeps quiet. Sansa starts going through Brienne’s purchases, making little _tsk_ sounds when she finds nothing she considers worthy of serving at what she’s undoubtedly picturing as a more fashionable affair than Brienne would.

Brienne peers into the other brown bag Sansa brought and smiles when she sees takeout from her favorite Chinese place. She takes out carton after carton, then freezes.

_Aren’t there certain foods pregnant women are supposed to avoid? Is it safe to eat Chinese food? Surely one meal can’t be that bad for me._

Brienne grabs her phone and does a quick Google search and is relieved to find out that Chinese food is perfectly fine. By the time she’s learned this, her stomach is growling loud enough to be heard over a dragon.

“Okay, so you’re going to need…”

“Sansa? Could we eat first, then do party planning? Please? I’m going to waste away if I don’t eat soon.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry, I got carried away. We can eat and party plan.” Sansa picks up the discarded corkscrew as Brienne gets out the plates. She frowns when Brienne only hands her one wineglass. “You’re not having any?”

“Nah. You’re going to help me party plan, and I’m going to need a clear head for that.”

Sansa laughs. “And Jaime once accused you of having no sense of humor.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” Brienne protests as she starts scooping out pork fried rice and orange chicken onto a plate.

The next twenty minutes go by in a blur. Sansa makes tons of suggestions about everything from food to decorations. She loves the stockings Jaime put up again this year and thinks a medieval theme would be a good idea—so now this imaginary party has a bloody _theme_. Brienne pretends to listen but in reality, she’s trying not to panic at the idea that Jaime will run for The Wall himself when she tells him she’s pregnant. Despite being hungry, she barely manages to choke down a few forkfuls of her meal.

“Do you have a punch bowl?” Sansa asks, getting up from the couch where they’ve been eating and heading back into the kitchen. “I don’t think I’ve seen one, so you might want to consider getting one. Or if you’re too cheap to buy one, I can loan you my mother’s.”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Brienne admits. Neither she nor Jaime have much time for entertaining guests, and certainly not on the level of needing a punch bowl. “Probably not.”

Sansa rummages around for a couple of minutes, and then there’s a sudden silence from the kitchen. Brienne figures Sansa is horrified that she doesn’t have something like a punch bowl, but when she turns her head to see if everything is okay, Sansa is walking back into the room, holding the red Winter Harvest stocking Brienne had picked up on impulse at the store. 

“What’s this stocking for?” Sansa asks.

Brienne almost groans. Why hadn’t she hidden that before Sansa arrived? She restrains herself from leaping up from the couch and yanking it out of her friend’s hand, because that will only be more suspicious. “White Elephant gift exchange at work,” she blurts out. “I’m going to fill it with goodies. I figured that if I was going to go with something boring like a gift card as the main gift, I could add something nice to make it look like I tried.”

Sansa nods, sets the stocking aside for a moment, then frowns. “I thought we’d decided not to do the White Elephant thing after Arya and Asha nearly came to blows last Winter Festival over the nunchuks.”

_Damn, damn, damn._. “I thought they’d reconsidered as long as no one brought anything that might be considered a weapon.” Brienne furrows her brow as though thinking about this. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

“You did. We’re drawing names for Faceless Men on Friday.”

Of course they are. Why hadn’t she remembered that? “Oh, well, then that’s what it’s for. I think I prefer that, actually. Then I’ll know exactly what to get…as long as it fits in that stocking.”

Sansa throws her a suspicious look, and Brienne curses inwardly. Brienne’s a terrible liar—it’s why she never plays poker or any kind of game that requires hidden strategies—and anyone who meets her realizes this within minutes. Jaime’s been trying to teach her how to be deceptive, because when you’re dealing with the Lannisters, you have to be on your guard, but so far he hasn’t had much luck. Jaime also hasn’t put much effort into it, because he says he likes the fact that she’s so open and honest.

Sansa gasps, “Oh my gods—are you pregnant?”

Under normal circumstances, Brienne would marvel at the illogical leap Sansa’s mind took. Brienne has given her a perfectly logical explanation for why she’s got a third stocking, and Sansa jumps right to “baby.”

Never mind that she’s correct. It’s just annoying.

Brienne decides to bluff her way through this, and stares at Sansa with as much calmness as possible. “Yes, I’m pregnant,” she says flatly. “I was going to tell Jaime by filling the stocking with baby items and a positive pregnancy test. Honestly, Sansa.” 

She’s forgotten that Sansa learned from the masters when it comes to ferreting out truths and lies. Sansa just stares at her and says nothing, waiting for Brienne to break the uncomfortable silence that follows.

_I will not break. I will not tell anyone before I tell Jaime. It wouldn’t be right, only how am I going to tell Jaime?_

Sansa cocks her head to one side and waits. She never fails to impress Brienne by her ability to be quiet when she wants to get information out of someone, because although Sansa’s not exactly a chatterbox, she’s usually not the silent type.

“It’s just a stocking!” Brienne exclaims. “Am I not allowed to buy a stocking?”

Sansa’s eyebrows shoot up almost to her hairline and she folds her arms across her chest. _She’ll be tapping her foot next,_ Brienne thinks.

“I can stand here until Jaime gets home, then ask him what’s going on,” Sansa says.

“Oh for gods sake…yes, I’m pregnant!” Brienne snaps. “There, are you happy?”

Sansa lets out a shriek that can be heard all throughout King’s Landing, then runs over to the couch and throws her arms around Brienne. If Brienne didn’t outweigh her by a good forty pounds or so, Sansa probably would pick her up and twirl her around. Brienne’s ears are still ringing as Sansa pulls away from her.

“Ohmygods ohmygods ohmyGODS! I can’t believe you’re going to be the first of us to have a baby,” Sansa says. “I never would have thought it would be you.”

Brienne’s insides turn to ice as she asks in a small voice, “Why not me?”

Guilt flickers in Sansa’s eyes. “Not because of—gods, I didn’t put that right. I didn’t mean that I didn’t think you’d find someone, because I always knew you would.” She pauses. “I don’t know that I would’ve chosen _Jaime Lannister_ for you, of all people, but hey, the heart wants what it wants, right?”

“Right.”

“I just meant that you seem to be really focused on your career right now. I figured that if you were going to have a family that it would be a few years down the road. And honestly? I always thought Jeyne and Robb were going to end up getting pregnant first.” Sansa lowers her voice even though they’re alone in the house. “They’ve been trying for six months, and nothing so far.”

“Tell them to use condoms and be convinced that it won’t happen. That worked for me.”

“Gods, that’s the last thing I’m telling Jeyne. You getting pregnant without even trying? She’ll scratch your eyes out if she hears that.” 

“Sansa…” Brienne bites her lip, a habit she’s never quite been able to quit. “What if Jaime doesn’t want a baby?” _Or doesn’t want a baby with me?_

“Oh, Brie.” Sansa puts an arm around her. Brienne leans her head on Sansa’s shoulder. “Jaime’s crazy about you. It won’t surprise me if he comes in to work one of these days shirtless with ‘Property of Brienne Tarth’ tattooed on his chest. When you tell him you’re pregnant, as long as you’re happy about it, he’s going to be over the moon.” Sansa hesitates. “Are you happy about this baby?”

Brienne puts a hand on her stomach. Maybe she’d been sucking in her stomach earlier, because it definitely feels softer than usual. But the notion that there’s a baby inside her still doesn’t seem real. “I don’t know. I found out that I was pregnant right before you got here. I haven’t had time to process the whole thing. All that keeps going through my head is how everyone’s going to think that I got pregnant on purpose to trap Jaime. People already don’t believe that he’s with me because he loves me.”

“Look, I wasn’t Jaime’s biggest fan when you started seeing him because I thought he was going to hurt you. Now I know that he would rather cut off his hand than hurt you, but I still worry about you with him because I know how you think of yourself. You focus too much on what everyone thinks when they see you together when the only two people whose opinions should matter about your relationship are yours and Jaime’s. If Jaime only gave a damn about surface appearances, he’d be with some vapid supermodel type. But he doesn’t care about that.”

“I know you’re right, it’s just hard sometimes.” _Most of the time, really_. Brienne is doing better than she had been when she and Jaime first started dating. When she’s alone with him, she rarely doubts his feelings like she does when they’re out in public together. She knows it frustrates Jaime, but the insecurities of a lifetime don’t go away with just a couple of years.

“Jaime sees the amazing person we all see, and that’s why he loves you. And that’s why he’s going to love this baby, because it’s part of you. So if that’s all that’s keeping you from being happy about having a baby, then put those thoughts away now.” Sansa gives Brienne’s shoulders a squeeze and pulls away just as her phone goes off. Brienne recognizes the ringtone as the one Sansa uses for Theon.

“Hello, love…yes. At Brienne’s having dinner, why?... _What_?” Sansa shoots up off the couch and immediately starts pacing around. “How did that happen?...Oh my gods, I will shoot that man the next time I see him. I don’t care that he’s my brother, he’s going to get you killed one of these days…Do you need to go to the ER?...Okay. Put some ice on it and I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Love you.” Sansa ends the call.

“Do I want to know?” Brienne asks.

“Robb, that idiot, talked Theon into joining a game of hockey against the Flayed Men. That bastard Ramsay Snow deliberately ran Theon into the boards, and now he’s got a knot on his head and is seeing double.” Sansa looks guilty. “I hate to leave you when you’re…”

“If you say ‘in a delicate condition,’ I won’t let you plan a party for me, ever.” Brienne stands up as Sansa puts on her winterwear. 

“Spoilsport. Just for that, I’m buying you a punch bowl for Winter Festival.”

“Wonderful. Hey, why did you think I was pregnant just because I’d bought another stocking?” Brienne asks. “For all you knew, I was really going to use it for my Faceless Man gift.”

Sansa grins and pulls out the store receipt from her jeans pocket. “I found it on the floor when I was going through the drawers looking for a punch bowl. ‘First Response’ stood out from all the junk food.”

“So the whole ‘oh my gods, are you pregnant’ thing was a scam?”

Sansa laughs. “I wanted to see how long it took before you’d fess up, but I couldn’t help myself. Besides, _you_ were the one stringing me along with the promise of a New Year’s party.” She gives Brienne a quick hug. “Congratulations.”

Brienne murmurs a thanks as Sansa breezes out the door. 

~*~*~*~*~*

Brienne has every intention of waiting up for Jaime, but exhaustion claims her by ten o’clock and she zonks out on the couch. She stirs slightly when she hears the key turn in the lock two hours later, but Jaime notices her right away and quietly closes the door. She feels the light brush of his lips on her forehead as he murmurs, “Stubborn wench.” He leaves the room but returns a few minutes later, picks her up, and carries her to their bed. If she were fully awake, she would put up a token protest that she’s too heavy for him to be lifting, even though she’s had plenty of proof over the past two years that he’s strong enough.

She wakes up first the next morning, as she usually does. Jaime tends to need three alarms to wake up, whereas she awakens before her alarm sounds. Brienne watches Jaime as he sleeps, marveling as she always does at how someone so beautiful can love someone like her.

_You focus too much on what everyone thinks when they see you together,_ she hears Sansa say. _Jaime sees the amazing person we see, and that’s why he loves you._

When she was younger, Brienne wished that someone would think her beautiful, even though the mirror never lied to her. As she got older, she wished that someone would at least find her appealing, even if she wasn’t beautiful. When that didn’t happen, she stopped wishing altogether.

Then came Jaime. Jaime, with his snark and his arrogance. Jaime, with his eyes that lingered on her body in a way that at first she thought was disdainful but then she realized was fascinated. Jaime, with his mouth that first teased, then seduced, and then…loved.

She reaches out a hand and touches the light stubble on his cheek. Jaime makes a sound that reminds her of a purr and leans into her caress. She smiles and starts to pull her hand away, but Jaime reaches up and grasps her wrist.

“Were you not really sleeping?” she asks.

“I could hear you thinking. Loudly.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’okay. I needed to get up early, anyway—I’ve got a breakfast meeting with Tyrion. He managed not to kill Father, but it was a close thing. Now I’m in full damage control mode.” Jaime opens his eyes, leans in, and kisses her. “Plans for today?”

“Uh…” _Figuring out a way to tell you I’m pregnant that won’t send you screaming from the room._ “No. Maybe call Sansa later to see how Theon’s doing.”

“Mmm?”

“Hockey injury. She was over here last night when she got the call.”

“Ah. Well, lucky you. You can get more sleep after I’m gone.” Jaime throws back the covers, then gets out of bed. He does a full-body stretch, emphasizing his strong, muscular back, then heads for the bathroom.

Brienne doubts she’ll be able to get back to sleep for thinking about her news. She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. She expects to hear the shower running, but a minute later, Jaime opens the door.

“Brienne?”

“Hmm?” Brienne turns her head to look at him.

Jaime leans against the doorframe. “Why is there a cup full of what looks like piss sitting on the bathroom counter?”

For a second, Brienne is confused about what he’s talking about. Then she remembers and curses under her breath. She had thrown out the pregnancy tests and boxes, but clearly she forgot to empty the cup she’d used to collect the sample.

_Damn, damn, damn._

“Did you and Sansa get drunk and do that thing where you find out how much asparagus you have to eat before it affects the smell?” There’s a gleam of amusement in Jaime’s eyes. “Or was it a prank to see how long it would take me to notice and ask about it?”

The moment of truth has arrived, but Brienne can’t get the words out of her mouth. She hasn’t had time to figure out what she wants to do, or to ruminate on every possible reaction Jaime might have to the news, or…she feels the sting of tears. 

“Brienne?” Jaime walks back to the bed and stretches out alongside her. He props himself up on an elbow, leaving a hand free to stroke her cheek. “It can’t be that bad. What, did Sansa need you to hold her hand while she took a pregnancy test?”

She stiffens—not much, but enough that he notices. “So that’s it. Theon’s going to freak out. Personally, I don’t think they’re ready—Sansa’s a smart enough girl, but Theon’s a bit of an idiot. But if they decided it was time…”

“It wasn’t Sansa,” Brienne says quickly. “It was me. It was my test.”

Jaime’s face is a study in conflicting emotions—confusion, uncertainty, disbelief. “It was your test,” he repeats. She nods. “And what, uh, what was the result?”

_Please don’t be angry. Please say you’ll still love me._

“Positive. Six times positive.” She closes her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. She blurts out, “I’m so sorry, Jaime. I didn’t do this on purpose to trap you into a permanent relationship and I know we use protection and it’s supposed to work every time, but you know those things still have a failure rate of three percent and maybe one of them had a hole in it which is when it happened…”

“Brienne.”

“… and maybe I should’ve gone on the Pill like everyone else kept telling me, but…”

“Brienne.”

“…you said you were fine with using condoms and I didn’t think this would happen and I’m _so sorry_ …”

“Brienne!” Jaime says loudly, startling her to stop her rant. “Look at me.”

She shakes her head and feels tears running down her face. “I’m sorry, Jaime.”

“Brienne, please, just…look at me.”

Behind her closed eyelids, she saw the Jaime she’d first met, the beautiful, snarky asshole with the sharp green eyes and a smile cold as ice who took nothing seriously—the Jaime most of the world sees every day. She slowly opens her eyes and sees Jaime staring back at her—the Jaime she has come to know in the past two years, once she saw past the superficial to the real man underneath.

“Please don’t hate me,” she whispers.

Jaime’s thumb brushes away tears. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because…because we didn’t plan on having a baby, and I got pregnant anyway.”

“You make it sound like you did this all on your own. I’m pretty sure there were two of us here when the little cub was conceived.” Jaime’s hand trails down the length of her neck, down her muscular arm, lingers briefly on her hip, and finally stops on her abdomen. “Maybe we didn’t plan on having a baby right _now_ , but I always thought we’d have one at some point.”

Brienne gapes at him. “You did? B-but why didn’t you say anything?”

Jaime sighs. “This really isn’t how I intended to do this,” he says, turning away to get into the top drawer of his nightstand. He rummages around, finds whatever he’s looking for, and gets up from the bed. He walks to the other side and drops to one knee. “I had a plan where I would stick this in the bottom of your stocking so you’d find it on Winter Festival morning.” He grins mischievously. “I was going to tease you about cheating on me with a Faceless Man.” Jaime opens the box.

Brienne’s eyes fill with tears again as she looks at the elegant ring of small diamonds surrounding a sapphire, set in platinum.

“The ring belonged to my mother,” Jaime says, his voice husky with emotion. “After she died, Father put away all her jewelry. He had intended for me to get Mother’s engagement ring to give to my future wife, but Cersei wanted it, and you know what she’s like when she wants something. They fought and fought, and finally I told Father that I was fine with Cersei getting that ring as long as I got this one.” Jaime takes it out of the box. “My father bought it for Mother when Cersei and I were born, and she loved it so much that she almost never took it off. Seems even more appropriate to be giving it to you now.”

“It’s…it’s beautiful, but it’ll never fit on my finger.” Brienne has seen pictures of Joanna Lannister, who had been a petite, delicate woman. There’s no way anything that belonged to her would fit Brienne.

“Really?” Jaime reaches out and takes Brienne’s left hand in his. Before she can protest, he slides the ring onto her finger. It’s a perfect fit. “Huh. How about that? I admit, I was worried that having it resized would ruin the setting, but I did my research. Nothing but the best for my fiancée’s engagement ring.”

Brienne stares at the ring on her finger. It should look out of place on her large, mannish hand, but there’s something about it that feels right, as though it has been meant for her all along.

Just as Jaime should seem out of place by her side, but somehow, even when she worries about what people think about them…he doesn’t.

“You’re taking an awful lot for granted,” she says, feeling lighter than she has in days. “You stuck this rock onto my finger without even asking me the magic question.”

Jaime gasps in mock horror. “My gods, you’re right. How embarrassing. I figured that getting pregnant with my baby was answer enough that I didn’t even need to ask the question.” He clears his throat. “Brienne Tarth, the Jonquil to my Florian—”

She snorts at that.

“—the Blue Knight to my Goldenhand the Just…the mother of my future child…” Jaime looks directly into her eyes. “Great love of my life…will you marry me?”

Brienne nods, as though there was ever any doubt. “I love you,” she says.

“I know,” he replies, and leans in to give her a long, lingering kiss.


End file.
